


Very Attracted to Turkish Culture

by slag4barrow



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Anal Sex, Gay Sex, Kissing, M/M, NSFW, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28793115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slag4barrow/pseuds/slag4barrow
Summary: Mr Pamuk requires Thomas' services, and Thomas is eager to please.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Kemal Pamuk
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	Very Attracted to Turkish Culture

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, so I apologise if it's absolute hot garbage.
> 
> Either way, enjoy!

“Shall I adjust it, sir?” Thomas says, taking a step closer to the foreign diplomat. Thomas had never met many foreigners, apart from the Levinsons of course, and Harold had never struck him as particularly attractive. Pamuk was different, with his beautiful, dark brown eyes and full lips which were practically begging to be kissed. Thomas has never had a type, he can’t afford to, though he thinks that if he did, Mr Pamuk would almost certainly be included in it.

Thomas grabs Mr Pamuk’s waistcoat and adjusts it to his liking, letting his hands linger for probably a moment too long around the man’s waist, he couldn’t control himself, as much as he tried. Pamuk had not spoken a word up until this moment, when he finally parted his sultry lips.

“Now I’m relying on you to see that I go downstairs properly dressed. I’m a stranger to England and English ways.” He speaks, in a vaguely exotic accent, though his English is good, as should be expected from a foreign dignitary. 

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ve got sharp eyes for anything out of order.” Thomas answers in a mildly flirtatious manner.

Kemal is amused by Thomas’ demeanor, and replies in an equal manner, though more subtly than the young footman. “Then I put myself entirely in your hands.”

“You do right, sir.” Thomas grabs a tie and hands it to Kemal, again letting his hand linger too long, brushing his fingers against the others as he pulls away. Pamuk turns away to look in the mirror while attempting to tie his tie, as Thomas looks over his shoulder, admiring the beauty of the man before him.

“I should love to visit Turkey.” Thomas continues. Pamuk is surprised at the friendly conversation, though indulges Thomas.

“It’s a wonderful country.” Pamuk responds, he is attempting to tie his bowtie, but so far is failing to do so. “My man always does this. Can you?”

Thomas is bewildered that a man of such grace hasn’t the slightest clue of how to tie a bowtie, though he does his duty and assists him. Once done, the men are left staring silently at each other, tension rising. Thomas is desperate, waiting for permission or an invitation of any kind. Their gaze still locked, he breaks the silence.

“I’m very attracted to Turkish culture.” Thomas has given up even attempting to hide his attraction to the gentleman before him, he’d beg to have even just a minute with him.

“Then I hope your chance will come, to sample it.” Pamuk responds in an alluring, slightly husky tone, and this is all the permission Thomas needs. He places his hand gently on the man’s cheek, his skin as smooth as a baby’s. They maintained their eye contact for a split second, before something took over Pamuk.

Pamuk, within milliseconds of Thomas touching him, crashed his lips against his, attacking his mouth with his own. He shoved the young footman against the wall of his room, not once letting go of his face. 

Thomas wondered as Pamuk fondled his body wildly, pushing his tongue into Thomas’ mouth. He wondered where this inner man had come from. The Pamuk the others had seen had seemed so graceful and dignified, but this Pamuk was animalistic, wild, and most of all lustful.

Kemal suddenly broke away from the kiss and rapidly undid the buttons of his waistcoat, carelessly casting it aside along with his bowtie. He then began to unbutton his shirt, and Thomas wasted no time in burying his face in the diplomat’s neck once he had gotten the first few buttons undone.

Pamuk let out a soft moan, drunk off pleasure as his lover devoured his neck. Once the last few buttons were undone, he threw off his shirt and lifted his arms, gesturing for Thomas to lift off his undershirt for him. Thomas did so willingly, and did so so rapidly and with such desperation you would think he had mere seconds left to live. He threw off his own jacket right after, before leaning down.

Thomas leant down and admired Pamuk’s broad chest, there was a smattering of dark chest hair, and his nipples were hard. This was expected of course, as each had been down the other’s throat for the past five minutes. He could not just stay there looking at it all evening though, he soon buried his face in Pamuk’s chest, leaving a trail of kisses down his chest and his stomach before reaching his waist.

Thomas looks up for approval, but to his surprise, Pamuk grabs him and brings him to the bed, placing him down with his back against the headboard. The two undress almost fully, leaving them both in their underwear, their clothes scattered in piles around the floor. The tent in Thomas’ pants threatens to rip the fabric any moment, so Pamuk puts it out of its misery. He pulls down his underwear quickly to reveal his throbbing erection.

Pamuk can see that Thomas is desperate, yet decides to tease him a little before allowing him any release. He kisses the tip of Thomas’ length gently a few times, in response to which Thomas moans softly before jesting.

“You sadist.”

Pamuk sniggers, though his amusement is short-lived. Thomas, desperate, grabs Pamuk’s brown locks and pushes his head down on his cock. He thrusts upwards into Pamuk’s throat, though lets up when he hears Pamuk gag.

Even when Thomas lets go of his head, Pamuk continues bobbing up and down his cock, swirling his tongue around as Thomas moans and whimpers. He is completely at Pamuk’s mercy, and Pamuk plans to exploit that. He swallows Thomas’ length all the way down to his base, making his hips buck upwards and his mind go wild.

“Oh Mr Pa-, I-, you’re going to make me-, you’re going to make-”

As soon as Pamuk hears that Thomas’ release is imminent, he pulls off of his dick and smirks at the young footman who is experiencing symptoms of withdrawal. Pamuk keeps lazily stroking Thomas’ cock to keep him aroused, as if he would have any difficulty staying aroused at this point. Thomas’ dick was throbbing so much it was almost painful, and he was incredibly disappointed at the sudden revocation of his release.

“Sir, why did you stop.” He says, panting and struggling to get the words out.

Pamuk places a finger at the entrance to Thomas’ hole and rubs gently, he smirks again before replying. “I want to fuck you.”

“Oh Mr Pamuk, sir, I don’t usually do tha-”

Pamuk interjects, cutting off Thomas as he continues caressing his hole. “Surely you can make an exception, for a guest of the house.”

“But, what about the dinner?”

“We’ll tell them I’ve taken ill.” Pamuk leans in to Thomas, pecking him on his lips, which by now were a beautiful shade of bright pink. “I’d rather stay here with you, now, stop finding excuses and get me ready.”

Pamuk got up onto his knees, though Thomas was not sure of what exactly the man meant, so he ended up simply staring at the frankly gigantic tent in his underwear. Pamuk, displeased with his ignorance, decides to compromise.

“Fine, I should prepare you instead.” Without a moment’s notice, Pamuk pulls backwards and places himself between Thomas’ legs, he lifts them up for easier access, and abruptly his tongue begins lapping at his hole. The sensation is unlike any Thomas has ever felt before, though he enjoys it nevertheless.

After a while, Pamuk pulls his face away from Thomas, and yanks off his underwear. Thomas watches as the gentleman alluringly spits into his hand and begins rubbing his erect cock. He doesn’t look up from his dick, almost in awe of his own body. Or at least that’s what Thomas thought, he’d always been told these foreign types were rather vain.

Once his dick was sufficiently lubricated, Pamuk pressed the tip against Thomas’ entrance and looked into his eyes before asking for approval. “May I, my inamorato?”

Thomas could barely find the words, though eventually he managed. “Oh God yes, please, I’m begging you, sir.”

Pamuk stops his teasing and finally indulges his lover. He slowly inches into Thomas, careful not to hurt him. He can’t help but let out a soft moan at how tight Thomas is.

“Ah, sikme.” Pamuk whimpers, Pamuk was so overcome with bliss and so in ecstasy he had slipped into his mother tongue. He still managed to keep it quiet though, which is more than could be said for Thomas, who was a panting, moaning mess. So much so that Pamuk was forced to cup his mouth.

“You must keep quiet aşkım, we would not want to alert anyone to our presence, would we?”

Thomas shakes his head and, after a moment, Pamuk lifts his hand. To his surprise, the footman manages to (mostly) hold his tongue, though still emitting the occasional quiet moan or whimper. These are reassuring to Pamuk though, they let him know he’s doing it right, and it feeds his ego quite a bit as well. He also has to admit, seeing Thomas’ face scrunch up as he tries to stay quiet is rather comical he finds.

Finally, Pamuk has managed to push the entirety of himself inside of Thomas, and he begins to slowly, ever-so-sensually, thrust in and out of him, while also slowly stroking Thomas’ cock.

“Oh Thomas, you feel so good.” He moans, ignorant to the world in that moment, as he focuses on the pure rapture he is feeling in the moment. He continues as he is for a while, before hears something emit from Thomas’ lips.

“Please go harder.” Thomas whispers. So quiet it’s essentially inaudible.

“What was that balım?” Pamuk asks his lover, eager to please.

“God, please go harder Mr Pamuk.” Thomas says, this time louder, and almost as if begging. Pamuk indulges him, quickening his pace in an instant. The sound of clapping fills the room, though nobody’s hands are meeting, just the skin of two interconnected lovers, desperately rutting in search of pleasure. And pleasure they have found.

As his thrusts quicken, he removes his hand from Thomas’ length. He holds Thomas’ ankles in the air to give him more power, and this increase in force makes Thomas putty in Pamuk’s hands, all he can do is moan and whimper, savouring the pleasure as his release builds.

Thomas is confused, he’s not touching himself, or even being touched (well in that area at least), yet he can still feel his orgasm building. It only took a few more thrusts of Pamuk’s member for Thomas to explode, his back arched as the orgasm rocked his body, spurting come from his throbbing dick.

“Hngg Mr Pam-, oh my Go-, hnggg.”

Hearing Thomas’ release was the final straw for Kemal, sending him over the edge as he released his load inside of Thomas. Load after load of warm come filled Thomas’ insides, as Pamuk roared from pleasure.

After his release, Pamuk collapsed down onto Thomas, his stomach on Thomas’ and the pile of come left there from his orgasm. They stayed silently laying there together, catching their breath for a minute, before Pamuk finally spoke.

“You know, I’m not late for dinner just yet. If you can get me ready within the next 10 minutes, I’ll return the favour later on.”

“But sir, what about me, I’ll be punished if I’m late to serve.”

“I’ll tell them you’ve suddenly taken ill, plus, I’d say you’ve served me well enough.” Pamuk smirked at Thomas, before planting a quick kiss on his beautiful lips. The two then sprang out of bed, Thomas rushing to dress him to see to it that he gets his favour. If it’s any as good as the time they just had, he was willing to do anything.

Once fully dressed, Pamuk opened the door.

“Wait here for me, don’t let anyone in.” He winked before shutting the door behind him, leaving Thomas to collapse in bed, his mind whirling.


End file.
